They Didn’t Mention Papa
Copyright © 1969; 2014 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
He wonders what it will be like standing over Papa’s grave. The last he knew, Papa was healthy and strong. He remembers once when they were in Shul and he tied some of the old men’s prayer shawls to their chairs. Papa saw him do it and he knew he would get hit. He could see the door close and Papa come towards him like he always did, the leather strap in his hands and a fierce look in his eyes. “Play around will you?”
He saw me do it, watched closely to see that I was tying bows instead of knots. When the old men stood up, their shawls fell to their chairs. I looked at Papa. He started to laugh but turned his head I shouldn’t see. He never beat me, never said anything about it to me.
He was a man. He was always good to me. He’d blame the others because I was the baby.
“What are you thinking about, Nathan?” Pearl has been watching him as he drives.
“Oh, about Papa. It’s all so sudden. I wonder what it will be like standing over his grave. He’s still so alive in me.”
Nathan parks the car just outside the cemetery grounds. He makes sure that Pearl has buttoned her raincoat and he turns up the collar for her. He realizes now that the Yamacah has been on his head all the while. It’s a good thing. His head must be covered. Pearl too must cover her head. It’s custom and tradition. She pulls a dark veil from her coat pocket and fastens it to her hair with a bobby pin. “I thought you’d want to see Papa.”
Nathan smiles. “I love you. Are you sure you want to go with me?”
Pearl opens the car door. “I’m sure.”
They walk through the cemetery gates together. Strait is the gate, Pearl thinks, remembering it as if it were the only book she’s ever read. There is no one else around. The rain has formed muddy pools on the grass, the graves and the paths. Nathan looks ahead through squinted eyes. The cemetery is dark and he can barely read the row and path numbers. Row six, path twenty four, isn’t that what Max said? No stupid. You forgot to ask. Where’d I get the numbers from?
“Do you know where it is?”
“No,” Pearl answers.
“We’ll have to stop at the information place.”
They approach a building.
“This must be it.” A large sign stares at Nathan and Pearl. “It’s closed. I’ll have to call Max.”
“I remember at the funeral, Max pointed out your uncle’s grave. Papa is right next to him.”
“Then it is row six path twenty four. How did I get these numbers?”
